I do not think this is the best film that played at Cannes this year (wait until you see Depardieu in "Cyrano") and, in fact, I do not even think it is a very good film. Now comes "Wild at Heart," which won the Palme d'Or at this year's Cannes Film Festival, to great cheers and many boos, some of the latter from me. Lynch's "Twin Peaks" is a cult hit on television.
"Blue Velvet" (1986) was hailed as one of the best films of the decade. At the end of both " Blue Velvet" and "Wild at Heart," I was angry, as if a clever con-man had tried to put one over on me. But as the movie rolls along, something grows inside of me - an indignation, an unwillingness, a resistance. I sit and watch his films and am aware of his energy, his visual flair, his flashes of wit. I am aware of it, I admit to it, but I cannot think my way around it. There is something inside of me that resists the films of David Lynch.
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